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But he did it. Preston finally got her to leave Dosserport for the first time in her life.
Now, it’s New York.
Upstate, not the city. But still, it frightens her all the same, the lack of home, no familiarity.
Helps that Kate can finally visit, though, now that she’s doing better.
Better than Billie’s doing.
There’s something about Kate’s strength that’s borderline psycho. Something that Billie is scared of… but admires.
Once Kate was healed up and the doctor let her go, she was a bat outta hell tearing through the sticks. Bags packed, cash stashed, and gas tank full. She was not about to let the knife Trevor stabbed into her back slow her down. She only stopped herself for Billie, stuck around for Billie’s alcohol-poisoning-hospital days.
Kate waited for her in that pit of misery, and she never shed so much as a fucking tear.
Kate’s always been that way. She just… gets on with it. Her ambitions will always be higher up on her priority list, while trauma is a nuisance made to be ignored.
And that’s how she does it. It’s how Kate can sit in this little nook of the visiting room at Eden Park, it’s how she doesn’t let a flicker of pain or discomfort cross her face as she finds her comfortable spot in the armchair, it’s how Kate can survive that Trevor was Blood Hood—
And that she unwittingly created him.
Billie knows what the cops and the town don’t. She knows everything. So she’s all too aware of where Kate’s mind is when she whispers, “I made him a monster”, a rare moment in time, her brown, teary eyes that never leak are the flickers of precious diamonds.
“You’re not any more to blame than I am,” Billie’s answer is one of truth, not comfort.
‘If you’re to blame, then so am I’.
And neither of them—not Billie, not Kate—can ever find it within themselves to point fingers at each other.
Back then, Kate did what she thought was the right, the only move she could make: Tell Trevor everything once those blackmail letters started to come in. Of all the ways they could have handled Cletus, this way was the simple, clean and quick method. At least, it would’ve been if Trevor hadn’t gone and created his own plan, conjured up his own bloody revenge—but not revenge for Henry.
It was never about Henry Maxwell.
No, he wanted revenge for the untouchables, the ‘come-from-money’ guys that the girls from the sticks dared to fuck with.
Trevor didn’t mourn Henry. But he was fucking pissed to learn he died at the hands of trailer trash, the very same one who torments his best friend. Not to mention the obvious secret that Trevor wanted Preston, coveted him from a distance.
But it was for all these reasons mashed up together that he did what he did.
And what he did to Kate…was fucked.
That night, at Trevor’s, he stole Kate from the bedroom doorway; Used a rag of chloroform to keep her silent as Billie tried her cellphone, distracted; Threw Kate into the room one over, and wasted no time before plunging the knife into her back.
Guess he thought she died instantly, but it was the chloroform that left her motionless on the floor, not the wound.
Maybe it’s because he was so rushed that night, or just had bad aim—whatever it was, it saved Kate’s life. The blade sunk into the gap beneath her shoulder blade, not even all the way. If he was trying to stab her heart, he didn’t go deep enough, so all he managed in the long-term was that Kate would suffer shooting back pains and need to keep up with physiotherapy for a while.
After his botched murder of Kate, Trevor just left her there, his girlfriend, bleeding on the carpet, and he dipped back into the bedroom, hid himself behind the door, and waited for his moment to attack the one he really wanted… Billie.
No doubt about it, he moved fast. So fast that it’s almost hard to believe he managed to do all that he did.
But unlucky Trevor, because Kate came to. Right around the time that he was mopping the landing floor with Billie.
Kate’s only way out was the bedroom window to the roof of the porch. She made her escape there, jumped into the bushes that cut and scratched her face, then ran into the kitchen. That’s where she fished out the Vanderbelt’s spare cellphone, from the bottom drawer beside the pantry.
She called the cops. And she managed all of that before Blood Hood found her—when Billie had run outside and saw Preston—and he knocked her out. But it was too late for Blood Hood. Trevor couldn’t finish what he started, not with the cops on their way.
So he played victim. He had Tonya ready to be a scapegoat. He only had to put the hood over her head and shove her out the door at Preston. And Trevor faked unconsciousness in the house.
